


The Last of the Malfoys

by Aeternum



Series: Leo Inter Serpentes Additional Scenes [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Poor Draco, So much angst, also more characters and relationships will be tagged as needed, i don't really know how else to tag this, though I may add more tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-10-28 17:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10835823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeternum/pseuds/Aeternum
Summary: Follows Draco's journey through the events of Leo Inter Serpentes.





	1. Eleven

Draco stared around at the beds of the other boys in his new dormitory and smiled. He'd survived his first day at Hogwarts. Well, alright, they'd only arrived there in the late evening, so technically, he'd only actually been there for a couple of hours, but still – it counted. More to the point, Draco had succeeded in his goal for the day – making new friends all by himself, without any input from either of his parents. While he was pleased that Pansy, Theo and Blaise had all been Sorted Slytherin like he had (not that any of them had had any doubts about that), the only reason Draco was friends with any of them was because their parents were friends. 

Now, though, Draco had for the first time in his life met someone entirely by himself. He'd walked into a compartment on the Hogwarts Express in order to hide from Greg and Vince, fully intending to duck back out as soon as they'd passed by. Instead, he discovered Harry, the boy he'd met at Madam Maulkin's, along with two other first years.

Draco paused and marvelled at the strangeness of that meeting. If someone had told him even yesterday that he was about to strike up a friendship with _Harry Potter_ , a Mudblood – Muggle-born, Draco told himself sternly, learn to say _Muggle-born_ – and Longbottom, well... he probably would have laughed himself sick.

Draco had handled himself quite well, he reflected. He hadn't been too star-struck when he learned who Harry really was; he had not uttered the word Mudblood, and even managed to be civil to Hermione; and he had made no sign that he knew of the painful history between his family and that of Neville's.

He was self-aware enough to realise that at first, he had only been polite to Hermione because Harry had been – and Draco knew that, no matter what else he did, he wanted to retain Harry's friendship. But as the train pulled further away from London, Draco had begun to see Hermione as a person – a proper witch, in fact. She'd been interesting and intelligent, and Draco had realised that he was actually beginning to like her. 

Perhaps Muggle-borns weren't as bad as he had always been told.

On the whole, Draco rather thought that he ought to be congratulated. And he knew just who to go to for that. Quietly, so as not to wake any of his new dorm mates, Draco got up and opened his trunk, pulling out a sheaf of parchment, a pot of ink, and his favourite eagle feather quill. Settling back on his bed, he spread a sheet of parchment out over a book and began to write.

_Dear Mother_

Draco paused. Should he address his father as well? No, best not to. As much as Draco loved and looked up to his father, he also knew that Lucius Malfoy had strong views about Muggle-borns. Draco wasn't entirely sure how either of his parents would take the news of his new friends, but he knew Narcissa would be nicer about it than his father would be. She always was. Draco was also fairly confident that he could get away with not writing to his father. Unlike Narcissa, Lucius had never requested a letter from his son, thereby giving Draco a perfectly good excuse not to write to him. And Draco could trust his mother not to show or tell his father a letter if it might draw his ire upon Draco.

_It's past our bedtime here. Judging by the snoring, everyone else has already fallen asleep, but I couldn't sleep before I wrote to you._

_I was Sorted into Slytherin, just like you and Father had predicted. In fact, I don't think the Sorting Hat even touched my head properly before it made its decision. Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Greg and Vince are Slytherins, too. There are three other girls with us, none of whom I have heard anything about – Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis. They seem alright – I know the Greengrass and Bulstrode families were in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, of course, and the Davis family are also Pure-bloods, if unconnected._

Draco had no doubt that Narcissa would know exactly who those three girls were – and if not, she'd make it her business to find out. 

_There's one more Slytherin in our year, and you'll never believe who it is! Guess._

_Go on, guess._

_I bet you didn't guess that it was Harry Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived!_

_it turns out, I already knew him. Remember that boy I told you about in Diagon Alley? That was_ the _Harry Potter! No wonder he didn't have any parents with him. I met him again on the train today, along with two other first years. The first was Neville Longbottom. Don't worry – he didn't seem to know anything about my family, and I didn't bring up anything you wouldn't want me to. Hopefully, the topic will never arise._

_The second was Hermione Granger, a girl who I am fairly certain is the smartest person I've ever met. She even did a spell, right there on the train – just fixed Harry's glasses like it was nothing! I would never have guessed that she was a Muggle-born if she hadn't said anything._

Draco paused again, nibbling on the end of his quill. Had he overdone the praise there? Probably not. His mother was probably going to focus on the fact that Hermione was a Muggle-born, anyway. Draco just hoped that his mother was intrigued enough that she wouldn't outright forbid Draco from being friends with her. If Draco could get over his initial impulse to sneer at or insult Hermione, then so could his mother.

He hoped.

_I'll send this with Thoth the first chance I get. We haven't gotten our timetables yet, but hopefully, I can get to the owlery some time tomorrow._  
_Love,_  
_Draco_

That would have to do. Draco would leave it up to his mother to decide whether or not she would tell his father about his new friends.

********

  
Two days after Draco sent his letter, his owl, Thoth, landed in front of him at breakfast. He was bearing a large box and had a letter attached to his leg. Draco quickly slipped the letter into his pocket and gave Thoth a piece of sausage. Thoth gulped it down, gave a low hoot, and took off. Unsurprised by Thoth's surliness – he'd always been an unfriendly owl – Draco opened the box to show off to his friends the sweets his mother had sent him.

It wasn't until that night that he was able to read his letter in private. Shutting the curtains on his bed, Draco nibbled on a piece of elf-made meringue from his mother as he read.

_Dearest Draco,_  
_I'm so pleased to hear that you've been Sorted into Slytherin. I have many fond memories of my time there – you'll become accustomed to the giant squid passing the windows, fear not – and you've always looked good in both green and silver. It's marvellous that you already have so many friends in your house with you. I've invited Lucrezia and Polly for tea later this week, so I look forward to discussing the good news with them._

_Darling, you've already met Daphne, along with her younger sister Astoria. Their parents threw a garden party a few years ago. The three of you snuck an entire tray of sweets away from the buffet and ate yourselves sick, remember?_

Draco's eyes widened. He remembered that. Vividly. It had been a fun party until he'd sicked up. He resolved to tell Daphne that they already knew each other before she could beat him to it.

_I confess myself surprised that Harry Potter was Sorted into Slytherin. His parents were both Gryffindors, but then, my cousin Sirius is proof that one's family past is not always an indication of one's own Sorting. In any case, I'm so happy that you're making new friends, darling. It's always good to broaden one's social circle. I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun with your new friends._

_I look forward to hearing all about your lessons. You're such a bright boy, I'm sure you'll be top of your class in no time. It was such a lovely surprise to receive a letter from you so quickly. I miss you already – the Manor's so empty without you, and the Christmas holidays are so far away._

_Lots of love,_  
__

_PS. Your father wishes me to inform you that he is very proud that you were Sorted Slytherin._

Draco reread the letter, then leaned back against the pillows, thinking hard. If he was reading between the lines correctly (and Draco prided himself on his ability to do so, at least when it came to his mother), Narcissa wasn't displeased by any of his new friends, and she either hadn't told Lucius about Hermione, or didn't want to tell Draco about his reaction.

Well. He'd have to wait until he went back home to find out. That was only, what, three and a bit months away? He could wait until then.

********

  
Draco was quiet for the trip back to King's Cross. He was too busy worrying about what kind of reception he was going to get from his parents to pay much attention to whatever his friends were talking about.

For the first time in his life, Draco was nervous about seeing his parents. Sure, he'd been in trouble before, but the marvellous thing about being a spoiled only child was that Draco had always – always – been able to get out of said trouble. Pleading, whining or crying – or even throwing a full blown tantrum when necessary – these were Draco's tools to escape any sort of punishment. But he had the feeling that none of those things would help him now. 

Draco wasn't stupid. He knew about his family's history, about their involvement in the war. He knew he had an aunt in Azkaban for a crime so horrific, Narcissa hadn't even wanted to tell him about it; Draco had had to beg her for weeks in order to hear the tale. What he'd heard had so terrified him that it had given him nightmares for over a month, certain that his sadistic aunt would be after him next. He knew that his aunt's husband and his brother were in there for the same crime. He knew that Narcissa's cousin Sirius was in Azkaban for killing a school friend (and a dozen Muggles, though Lucius had said that that wasn't a crime) in front of half the Ministry. 

And he knew that his father had been lying through his teeth when he claimed that he had been under the Imperius Curse during the war.

Draco had known from a young age that his father's Dark Mark had been taken willingly, that he had chosen to follow the Dark Lord because he believed his ideals. Most importantly, he had known that he was never, ever, to speak of that to anyone outside the family, or risk Lucius going to Azkaban. Having heard what Azkaban was like from Narcissa, Draco had always been very careful not to speak a word, even though he was well aware that Theo, Greg and Vince's fathers had all been in the same position. It was an open secret between the four families, a secret which ensured their silence through the prospect of mutually assured destruction.

Draco had never been ashamed of his father. Far from it. Everyone knew that Muggles were stupid and smelly, and that Muggle-borns weren't much better. Moving in pure-blood circles, he had never had to question anything his parents told him.

Not until he went to Hogwarts and met Hermione. Now, having become fast friends with a Muggle-born who was neither stupid nor smelly, Draco was beginning to wonder just how many other things his parents may have given him the wrong idea about.

When the train pulled into King's Cross, Draco made sure that he said an early goodbye to Hermione, well before they were in view of his parents. He then followed his other friends onto the platform, sticking close to Theo – it wouldn't hurt for his parents to see him talking with a pure-blood of whom they already approved.

“Draco! Over here, darling!”

Draco's head snapped around at the sound of his mother's voice. Narcissa looked the same as ever, tall and beautifully dressed, if rather less elegant than usual, given her enthusiastic waving. Lucius stood beside her, more reserved and leaning on the cane that was entirely for show, but even he had smiled when he caught sight of Draco.

Draco hurried over, dragging his trunk and carrying Thoth's cage, and threw himself into his mother's open arms. He closed his eyes as the familiar scent of her perfume washed over him, and for a moment, he forgot about all of his earlier apprehension. His cheeks were warm when he was finally released, but a quick glance around the platform showed all his school mates being similarly smothered by their parents, so that was all right. Once Draco was free, he was pulled into a hug by his father, surprising him. Unlike his wife, Lucius wasn't usually very easy with his affections.

Lucius pulled away far quicker than Narcissa had and looked down at Draco. “Where's the Potter boy, then?”

Draco blinked at the question. “Harry's staying at Hogwarts for the break.”

To Draco's immense relief, Lucius merely nodded. Some of the things Harry had let slip about his home life had seriously worried Draco, and he had every intention of talking to Narcissa about it while he was home, but not now, not here.

Not anywhere near his father.

Once home, Draco dumped his luggage on a house-elf and joined his parents in Narcissa's favourite lounge room. Afternoon tea had been set up in front of the fire, and Draco happily tucked in. He spent the rest of the afternoon telling his parents about what he'd gotten up to at Hogwarts. Even though he had already told her everything in his letters, Narcissa still wanted to hear it from him in person, and Lucius hadn't read all his letters in the first place.

To Draco's delight, neither of his parents expressed any displeasure over his new friends. Narcissa was genuinely curious and asked dozens of questions about them both, but Draco found Lucius' line of enquiry a little... odd. He was most interested in Harry, and it didn't take Draco long to realise that he seemed to think that Harry must have some sort of exceptional power, given that he had managed to kill the Dark Lord while still an infant. When Draco told him that he had no idea how that had happened – that for some strange reason he didn't discuss the murder of Harry's parents with him – Lucius lost all interest in the topic.

After spending a happy Christmas break at home, Draco decided that over his last dinner with his parents, he would ask them something he had been meaning to all holidays.

It was quite possibly the stupidest idea he had ever had.

“Absolutely not,” Lucius snapped.

“Lucius -”

“No, Narcissa. The boy will listen to reason,” said Lucius. “Draco, I have put up with you prattling on about the Granger girl for the last fortnight. I have been patient, and held my tongue, but this is the absolute limit. Under no circumstances will I allow a Mudblood to stay in this house.”

“Don't say that word,” Draco said.

“What, 'Mudblood'?” asked Lucius. “That's what she is, Draco.”

Half a year ago, Draco would have agreed. Now, however...

“She's my friend,” said Draco.

Lucius leaned forward over the dinner table. “Your mother and I did not raise you to associate yourself with filth like Mudbloods. Have you no respect for us, for our family name? I cannot believe that you would sully yourself in such a way.”

Draco felt his chin quiver. “Father -”

“Potter I can understand – his father, at least, was from the right sort of stock, and if you could find out how he bested the Dark Lord – he could be very powerful – and he must come with a certain prestige due to his celebrity, despite where he grew up. But what possible benefit is there to hanging around the Granger girl?” Lucius asked.

“She's my friend,” Draco repeated.

“A Mudblood, and from Gryffindor, no less? You can do better than that – you will do better than that,” said Lucius.

“You haven't even met her!” Draco cried.

“A fact for which I am extremely grateful,” said Lucius. “You will end this friendship upon your return to Hogwarts.”

Draco sucked in a horrified breath. “Father -”

“Go to your room, Draco. I won't listen to another word on the matter,” said Lucius.

He picked up his cutlery and returned to his meal, ignoring Draco entirely. Draco felt tears gathering and made no move to hide them when he looked beseechingly at Narcissa.

“Do as your father says,” Narcissa said quietly.

Her words felt like a punch to the gut to Draco, who couldn't remember the last time Narcissa had taken Lucius' side over his. He got up and rushed out of the dining room, wanting to put as much distance between himself and his parents as possible.

Draco was crying properly by the time he reached his room. He slammed the door shut, threw himself onto his bed, and sobbed into his pillows. Of all the many scenarios he had imagined when planning how to ask if Harry and Hermione could visit over summer, being told he couldn't be friends with Hermione hadn't even crossed his mind.

Draco had soaked a pillow by the time he stopped crying and began to consider his options. He could throw the biggest tantrum of his life, he supposed, though he hadn't had one of those in years, and rather fancied he had grown out of them... He could attempt to reason with his parents, once his father had calmed down. He'd need to get his mother on her own first, if that was the case, win her over to his side before tackling his father...

If only he had some other family to whom he could appeal – an aunt or uncle to whom he could write, or even run away to live with, if he really wanted to teach his parents a lesson. But there was no one. He had no living grandparents. Lucius was an only child, as both of his parents had been. Narcissa's sister, brother-in-law, and cousin were all locked in Azkaban, and any of her other living cousins were too distant for Draco to have ever met them.

Feeling more alone than he ever had in his life – and his childhood at Malfoy Manor had been pretty bloody lonely at times – Draco's tears returned. He was still sobbing when he heard his door open.

“Go away,” he choked out.

The door closed quietly, and footsteps approached the bed. Draco felt the mattress dip, and didn't need to raise his head to know that it was his mother – his father would never come to smooth things over after a fight, not this soon.

“Darling, will you please sit up?”

“No,” Draco said. “And don't call me 'darling' when you clearly hate me.”

“I could never hate you, darling. Never. Now please sit up so that we can discuss the agreement that I have reached with your father.”

Draco froze. “Agreement?”

Narcissa shifted on the bed so that she could lean against the pillows on her side of bed. “You don't have to stop being friends with Hermione.”

Draco's head shot up. “I don't?”

“No.”

Draco scrambled up off his stomach to lean back on the pillows next to his mother. “How'd you manage that?” he asked, awestruck.

Narcissa smiled. “Your father can be a difficult man, but I've brokered a compromise.”

Draco bit his lip. “Compromise?”

“You may remain friends with whomever you like, but no Muggle-borns are to be invited here to the Manor. Nor does your father want to hear about them,” said Narcissa.

“So, what, he's just pretending that they don't exist?” Draco demanded.

“It's better than the alternative, is it not?” asked Narcissa.

“I suppose,” said Draco.

Narcissa held her arms open. “Come here.”

Draco gave one final sniff before leaning in his mother's embrace. He felt better the second her arms wrapped around him.

“I'm sorry if you thought I was siding with your father,” Narcissa murmured. “I just wanted to get you out of there before things could escalate.”

“I understand,” said Draco. “What about Harry? Can he come and visit?”

“Yes. I'd like to pick him up from his relatives' home, if possible. I'd like to see just what they're like, if what he's told you is true,” said Narcissa.

“I think it's worse than what he's told me,” Draco said in a small voice.

Narcissa's arms tightened around him. “Let's hope not.”

They stayed together on the bed for some time, before Narcissa kissed Draco's forehead and released him. “Now, we didn't get to finish dinner. What say you to having dessert up here?”

Draco smiled. “I say that's an excellent idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

Draco knocked on the door to his mother's study. “May I come in?”

“Of course, darling,” came Narcissa's reply.

Draco opened the door and pulled Dobby into the room, shutting the door behind them. “Tell her what you just told me.”

Dobby looked from Draco to Narcissa. “Dobby is intercepting all of Harry Potter's mail, Mistress.”

Narcissa stood up abruptly from behind her desk. “What?” she cried, walking forward.

Dobby shrank back from her. “D-Dobby is stopping Harry P-Potter from getting any mail, Mistress,” he said.

Narcissa stopped with a frown. “I'm not going to punish you, Dobby, and neither is Draco.”

“Says who?” Draco muttered, still furious with the elf.

“Says me, Draco,” Narcissa said sharply. “Dobby, why did you do this?”

Dobby trembled, but raised himself up to his full height. “Harry Potter will be in grave danger if he returns to Hogwarts, Mistress. Dobby is thinking that if Harry Potter doesn't get any mail, he will think he has no friends at Hogwarts, and not want to go back.”

“You're trying to keep Harry safe?” asked Narcissa.

Dobby nodded his head, making his ears flap. “Yes, Mistress! Dobby acted only from the goodness of his heart!”

“That would explain why he hasn't written to you since school ended...” Narcissa said. “But what's this danger, Dobby? Is Draco in danger, too?”

“No, Mistress! Master Draco will be perfectly safe!” Dobby said earnestly.

“Are you sure?” Narcissa demanded. “If you're lying about Draco's safety...”

“Dobby will iron his hands, Mistress, if any harm comes to Master Draco,” Dobby squeaked.

“I don't think that will be necessary,” said Narcissa. “Can you tell us anything else about the danger to Harry? Anything at all?”

Dobby's eyes opened wide, which was very wide indeed as a house-elf. “No, Mistress. Dobby swears that Dobby cannot say any more than what Dobby has already told Mistress about danger to Harry Potter!”

“Very well. You may go, but I want you to leave Harry's mail alone.”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“Oh, and Dobby? Don't say anything to Lucius.”

“Dobby will -”

“No, don't punish yourself. That's an order. Just keep your mouth shut,” said Narcissa.

“Yes, Mistress!” Dobby cried, then Disapparated with a crack.

Draco met his mother's gaze. “Well? What do we do? Should I write to Harry again? Should we tell Father what Dobby's been up to?”

“Absolutely not. Dobby was clearly well-intentioned, if misguided. He doesn't deserve whatever punishment your father would dole out to him,” said Narcissa. She looked pensive for a moment longer, then smiled. “How would you like to come to Surrey with me?”

“Now?” Draco asked.

Narcissa hesitated, then shook her head. “We'll go just after lunch tomorrow. It wouldn't do for us to look worried in front of your father.”

Draco swallowed nervously. “Mother, what's going on? Why must we keep everything a secret from Father?”

“Not everything, darling. Just anything related to Muggles,” said Narcissa. “You remember the conditions under which you are allowed to remain friends with Hermione. Think of this secrecy as just an extension of that.”

“But Father didn't say anything against Harry! Or did he?”

“No, and he won't, darling, he's given me his word. But you know what he thinks about Muggles. He's not going to be very pleased when he finds out we're going to visit some. If he learns that we have any cause to worry about what we might find there...”

Draco thought about this. It did make sense, after his initial worry. Lucius tolerated Narcissa taking Draco shopping in the nearby Muggle village of Amesbury, but he'd never once joined them on one of their trips.

“What do you think we'll find there?” he asked.

Narcissa managed a small smile. “Hopefully, a twelve-year-old boy ready and waiting with his bags packed.”

********

The next afternoon, Draco carefully dressed in his most Muggle-worthy outfit of grey trousers and a light blue dress shirt. He'd never received any odd looks when wearing these clothes in Amesbury, so he figured that they must be equally appropriate for Little Whinging.

When he walked downstairs, he found Narcissa waiting for him by the door, also dressed in clothes she often wore to Amesbury. “Ready, darling?”

Nervous, Draco merely nodded. Narcissa gave him a comforting smile.

“Chin up, darling, they can't be that bad.”

Draco wanted very much to believe his mother, but when he thought about all the little things Harry had let slip about his family... Draco thought that this might be one of the rare occasions on which Narcissa was completely and utterly wrong. 

“You have left your wand behind, I hope,” Narcissa said once they were outside.

“Yes, Mother,” said Draco.

Narcissa had decreed that it must stay behind, lest Draco perform underage magic in front of any Muggles. He wasn't happy about it – he didn't like going anywhere without his wand, much less the home of a most unpleasant sounding family. In fact, if he had been with anyone other than his mother, he was fairly certain that he would have lied and hidden his wand in a pocket, just in case.

As soon as they had walked through the gates, Narcissa took his hand and Apparated them away to a quiet alley. If it were not for the hulking automobile parked down one end, it could have been any alley in the magical world. 

“This way,” Narcissa said, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

They walked briskly out of the alley and onto a quiet suburban street. Draco had seen Muggle homes before – Amesbury was full of quaint little cottages, and the London streets near Diagon Alley and St Mungo's had blocks of flats in varying heights and styles. None of that had prepared Draco for Privet Drive.

“It's so... er...”

“Identical,” Narcissa said wonderingly, gazing around them. “All of these houses look exactly the same as each other.”

It was true. Apart from the numbers on the front doors, there was little to distinguish one house form another, other than the choice of flowers in the front gardens. Even the shiny automobiles parked in front of some of them all looked the same.

“Did they do this on purpose?” Draco asked.

“They must have,” said Narcissa.

She squeezed his hand, and Draco realised that they had been walking hand in hand all this time, like he was a small child. He found he didn't mind it, though; he liked the reassuring warmth of his mother's hand in his. He tightened his grip when they came to Number 4. It looked exactly the same as every other house on the street, but Draco's stomach clenched with nerves as he walked up the garden path.

Narcissa knocked on the door. Ten seconds later, a thin shape appeared on the other side, distorted through the rippled glass. The door was yanked open, and the thin shape was revealed as a bony, horse-faced blonde woman wearing an apron over her floral dress. Draco knew she must be around Narcissa's age, give or take a few years, but this woman looked much older. Frown lines were etched into her forehead, and there was a cruel, pinched look around her mouth.

Draco hated her on sight.

“What are you selling?” the woman demanded, her eyes darting suspiciously between Draco and Narcissa.

Draco wondered if there was something that made her realise that her visitors weren't Muggles, or if she always answered the door in this manner.

“We're not selling anything, Mrs Dursley,” said Narcissa.

Mrs Dursley's eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name? Who are you? Where are you from?”

“I'm Narcissa Malfoy, and this is my son, Draco. We're from Wiltshire,” said Narcissa.

A shadow crossed the hallway behind Mrs Dursley, and then a man walked up to join her at the door. Fat where she was thin, black-haired where she was blonde, his small blue eyes were just as hard and unfriendly as his wife's were.

“What do you want, then?” asked Mr Dursley, his thick moustache all but quivering in distrust.

“I want to speak to your nephew,” said Narcissa.

Mrs Dursley gasped and went pale, while Mr Dursley somehow turned even more purple-faced than he had begun. Draco wondered interestedly if he were about to have a heart attack.

“We have no nephew! Not a one! You've got the wrong house!” Mr Dursley blustered.

“I disagree, Mr Dursley. Now stand aside before I am forced to draw my wand,” said Narcissa.

The moment she said “wand”, both Dursleys froze in horror, before simultaneously moving out of the doorway.

“Get inside before the neighbours see!” Mrs Dursley hissed.

Narcissa obliged, leading Draco into the crowded hallway. As soon as the front door was shut, Mr Dursley pointed his finger in Narcissa's face.

“Listen here, you -”

“You will address me as Mrs Malfoy,” Narcissa said coolly.

“I'll address you however I bloody well like to!” Mr Dursley shouted, his finger shaking with rage.

Narcissa used her wand to push the offending finger out of her face. Draco sniggered when Mr Dursley acted as if he'd been burned. 

“Are you always this rude?” Narcissa asked disdainfully. She continued without waiting for an answer. “Where's Harry?”

A door down the hall opened, and a blond boy peered around the door jamb. He gave a squeak of fright when his eyes met Draco's. Draco smiled his most malicious grin and took half a step towards him, and had the absolute pleasure of seeing Dudley flee into the room from which he'd come. Draco hadn't even needed his wand.

“What did you do to him, you nasty little boy?” Mrs Dursley demanded.

Narcissa's wand swung around. “You will not talk to my son like that. Now. How many times do I have to ask where Harry is?”

“What d'you want with him?” Mr Dursley asked.

“We have come to take him for the rest of the holidays. I had envisioned us being able to have a civil conversation about that, rather than this confrontation in your hallway, but I see now that that was overly optimistic of me,” said Narcissa.

“He's not going back there. Not to that freak school. Never!” Mr Dursley said with vicious pleasure.

Narcissa's voice lost all trace of warmth. “Is that so? Draco, go upstairs and find out which room is Harry's. I'll be up directly.”

“Now listen here you bloody bitch!” Mr Dursley thundered. “Your little freak of a bloody son will not -”

“ _Go_ , Draco,” Narcissa said.

Draco looked up at his mother, not wanting to leave her alone with this couple, but found her completely unruffled. She could handle herself, Draco reminded himself. He nodded and ran up the stairs, while Mr Dursley resumed shouting and swearing at Narcissa.

His voice was only marginally faded upstairs. Draco stopped at the top of the stairs and looked around himself. There were four doors, all of them closed.

One of them had five different locks on it, and a small hinged door set in the centre of it, down near the floor. Behind him, Narcissa's quiet footsteps were coming closer.

“Have you found him?” she asked quietly.

Eyeing that little door – it looked very much like the feeding slot of a prison door, to Draco's mind – he edged over to the locked door. “Harry?” There was no answer, and Draco frowned. What else could be behind this door. He knocked, then repeated, “Harry?”

“ _Draco?_ ”

Draco stepped back from the door. “Mother, it's this one.”

Narcissa unlocked the door with her wand, and it immediately swung open. Draco stepped through to find Harry gawking at him. Somehow, Draco managed not to gasp when he spotted the bars – _bars!_ – on the window behind Harry.

“Are you real?” Harry whispered.

Draco frowned at such an odd (and, frankly, alarming) question, then forced a laugh. “Yes, Harry, I'm real,” he said, then attempted a joke. “Or at least I think -”

What was sure to be a pitiful attempt at humour was cut off when Harry threw himself at Draco, wrapping him in one of the tightest hugs Draco had ever experienced. He hugged Harry back as best he could, thoroughly unnerved by the way Harry was acting.

Eventually, Draco remembered his manners and stepped back. “Harry, I'd like you to meet my mother.”

Luckily, Narcissa was too distracted to rebuke Draco. Even as she greeted Harry, Draco could see the way her eyes narrowed when she too noticed the bars on the window. On the desk in front of the window, Harry's owl, Hedwig, was locked in her cage, looking both furious and defeated.

It didn't take Harry long to pack – some pencils and paper from his bedside table, and a biscuit tin and Muggle contraption from underneath a loose floorboard were the only possession in his room.

“Everything else is in my cupboard under the stairs,” Harry said, his cheeks turning red.

Narcissa nodded. In a few flicks of her wand, she had blasted the bars off the window, unlocked Hedwig's cage and, once the owl had soared out the window for Malfoy Manor, shrank the cage and given it to Draco. 

The Malfoys silently followed Harry downstairs, where the shouting had finally died down. Harry stopped in front of a tiny door set under the stairs.

“Are your possessions in here, Harry?” Narcissa asked quietly.

When Harry nodded, his face redder than ever, Narcissa unlocked the door with her wand and pulled it open. Draco's eyes widened in horror when he saw the interior of the cupboard. When Harry had told him that his relatives locked him into a cupboard, Draco had thought it must be spacious – not as large as his own walk-in closet back home (which was bigger than Harry's bedroom), but certainly not this poky little hole in the wall. Even short as he was, Harry wouldn't have been able to stand up straight, nor fully stretch out on the thin, lumpy mattress wedged onto the cupboard's floor. The underside of the stairs was covered in thick spiderwebs, and a silverfish scuttled out of sight as light poured into the cramped space.

Harry hurriedly pulled out his trunk and broomstick then tried to shut the door, only for Narcissa to hold it open. Her hand was shaking, and a mask of cold fury settled over her face as her eyes raked over the tiny space. Draco put his arm around Harry, unable to think of a single thing to say, and watched his mother's anger increase.

He thought the Muggles got off lightly, in the end. Narcissa lectured them, berated them, dictated how they would treat Harry in the future, and threatened them, but she didn't cast a single curse on them, as much as Draco could tell she was dying to.

Once home, Narcissa dismissed the boys and retreated to her study for the afternoon. Draco spent the time before dinner trying to act as normally as he could: he showed Harry to the guest bedroom he would be using, took him on a brief tour of the grounds, and played Quidditch. The entire time, though, Draco was dying to talk to his mother.

Finally, once dinner was over, both his parents retired to their respective studies. Draco and Harry stayed up a little longer in Draco's room, playing Exploding Snap, before Harry eventually headed off for his own room next door. 

As soon as Draco heard the door shut, he hopped off his bed and snuck downstairs to his mother's study.

He found Narcissa sitting on the couch, her feet curled up beneath her and a glass of amber liquid held loosely in one hand. A crystal decanter sat on the side table next to her. 

“I gather Harry has retired for the night?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Draco. He walked over and sat down next to her, putting his arms around his knees.

“I'm sorry I didn't believe you, darling,” Narcissa said quietly.

“I'm not really worried about that right now,” said Draco.

“No... no, I suppose not,” sighed Narcissa.

She set her glass down on the side table, then lifted her other arm up. Draco immediately scooted over and curled into her side.

“It's bad, isn't it,” he said.

“It is,” Narcissa said.

“I told him today he should tell someone – Snape, maybe – but he didn't want to. Said your threats would be enough to make the Dursleys behave next year,” said Draco.

“That was a good idea, but I'm not sure there's anything Severus could do,” said Narcissa.

“So there's nothing we can do?” asked Draco.

“I wouldn't say that,” said Narcissa, giving him a squeeze. “As Harry said, my threats today may likely help keep them in line.”

“And if they don't?” Draco asked.

“I'm considering making a report to the Muggle authorities,” said Narcissa.

Draco drew back in surprise. “You're what?”

Narcissa almost smiled at his reaction. “Well, the Ministry's system for dealing with this sort of situation is rather lacking, so I thought I'd see if the Muggles have a better system.”

“What _is_ the Ministry system?” Draco asked curiously. 

“I believe that they would try to locate an alternative guardian. I'm sure that Harry's parents would have nominated someone else,” said Narcissa. “If there are no suitable guardians available, then I'm afraid that children go to live at a Ministry orphanage. If they're lucky, they get adopted, but if not, they remain there until they're seventeen.”

“That doesn't sound much better than where he is,” said Draco. “But what about this guardian? Why can't Harry go and live with them now? Surely they can't be any worse than the Dursleys.”

Narcissa gave a low laugh. “Because unless I'm very much mistaken, Harry's alternative guardian would be his godfather. My cousin, Sirius.”

Draco stared at Narcissa. Sirius was locked away in Azkaban for murdering thirteen people with a single curse. What was worse, though he had at one point been best friends with Harry's father, Sirius had betrayed the Potters, and gone over to serve the Dark Lord, giving away their hiding place so that the Dark Lord could hunt them down and kill them.

“I guess I was wrong. He's definitely worse than the Dursleys,” said Draco. “What will the Muggle authorities do?”

“I've no idea,” said Narcissa. “I don't even know where to begin asking around, to be honest. I'm fairly certain I can't just waltz into their government building and start throwing bribes around.”

Draco smiled – his family had a long history of doing exactly that with the Ministry, and it had usually worked out well for the Malfoys.

“I'm afraid that it may take me some time to find any answers,” Narcissa concluded.

“What if – what if you and Father adopted him?” Draco suggested.

Part of him liked that suggestion: if he and Harry were brothers, then that would mean Harry would live at the Manor with Draco during the holidays. 

Another part of him – the part that had recently begun to feel funny when Harry smiled a certain way, or hugged Draco – raised a vehement but voiceless protest to this course of action.

Narcissa leaned over and kissed Draco's forehead. “I would if I could, darling, but you know your father wouldn't agree. Please tell me you haven't mentioned this idea to Harry.”

“I only just thought of it,” said Draco.

“Good. It would be cruel to give Harry hope, only to dash it away again,” said Narcissa.

“I hate not being able to do anything,” Draco grumbled.

“We may not be able to get him away from that family, but there are things we can do to help him,” said Narcissa. “When we go shopping tomorrow, I'll make sure he gets a suitable wardrobe, one that actually fits him properly, with adequately warm winter clothing. We can make sure that he has enough food to eat and that he enjoys his time here at the Manor – and he is always welcome here, darling. He may spend every holiday here if he wants. And you and Hermione can continue to be good friends to him at Hogwarts.”

Draco nodded. “Alright.”

“And you can always come to me for advice,” Narcissa added. “Or, when at Hogwarts, you could go to Professor Snape. I'm not sure what he's like as a Head of House, but your father and I knew Severus when we were at Hogwarts, and he was a very intelligent boy. I'm sure he's just as intelligent as an adult.”

Draco nodded again. “He likes Harry, too.”

“As do I. He's a charming little boy,” said Narcissa.

Draco frowned. “He's not a little boy, Mother.”

“No?” Narcissa asked, sounding amused.

“No! He's less than two months younger than me, and I'm not a little boy anymore!” Draco cried.

“Oh, darling, impending puberty or not, you'll always be a little boy to me,” said Narcissa.

“ _Mother!_ ”

********

Draco's stomach was tight with nerves as he got ready to go to Diagon Alley. Of course they were going the same day as Hermione, and of course it was his father taking him and Harry, not his mother. 

Of bloody course.

He'd taken every precaution he could. As soon as Lucius had told Draco when they were going, Draco had written to Hermione, telling her that under no circumstances was she to approach him or Harry if Lucius was around – actually, no, don't approach at all, just to be safe. Her reply had been agreeable enough, though he knew he had a bit of explaining to do later on. He'd also made sure to remind Harry not to mention Hermione within Lucius' hearing.

To Draco's relief, Lucius left him and Harry in the Leaky Cauldron, giving them two whole hours on their own. Perhaps this day wouldn't be as bad as Draco had been fearing.

Draco and Harry had just decided to head for Gringotts first when someone squealed Draco's name. Seconds later, Daphne appeared out of nowhere to hug him and Harry. Initially pleased to see her, it took all of ten seconds for Draco's happiness to fizzle away, leaving behind a hard, hot little feeling in his chest.

Draco knew that Daphne was a flirt, but it had never bothered him before – why would it? Now, though – now that she had seen Harry in his nice new clothes, and decided to flirt with _him_... well. It bothered Draco. A lot.

To make matters worse, Harry, the prat, was completely oblivious to Daphne's blatant ogling and flirting. Couldn't he tell that Daphne was interested in him? That she was all but throwing herself at him? If he stayed this clueless, it wouldn't be long before she managed to snap him up, taking him away from Draco, when clearly he had the better claim.

 _Woah_. Where did _that_ thought come from? Draco blinked. No, he didn't fancy Harry. He couldn't. He just didn't like sharing, that was all, and here was Daphne, trying to take one of Draco's best friends away from him. He'd be just as annoyed if someone was acting like this towards Hermione.

Wouldn't he?

Draco blinked again and refocused, joining in the conversation with a horrible strained laugh. Neither Harry nor Daphne seemed to notice anything off about it, though, and Draco somehow managed to act like a normal human being until Daphne eventually left to rejoin her family.

Good riddance.

Annoyance built up in Draco as he followed Harry out the back of the pub. Why was the stupid blind prat so dense? Clearly someone ought to knock some sense into him. For his own good.

Draco philanthropically elbowed Harry in the ribs. “She likes you,” he blurted.

Shit.

Harry just laughed as he walked through the archway to Diagon Alley. “No, she doesn't.”

“She gave you her special smile. The one with all the dimples,” said Draco.

Harry looked at Draco like he was crazy, which might not be all that far from the truth. “I think I'd know if someone liked me, you git.”

“No, you'd be the last to know. Trust me,” said Draco, unable to help himself.

Thankfully, Harry decided that getting some money out of his Gringotts vault was more important than asking what the hell Draco was on about, and changed the subject. On the cart ride down to Harry's vault, Draco didn't need to speak, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

So. It appeared that Draco had, without his knowledge or consent, decided that he fancied Harry. It could be worse, he supposed. Somehow.

Draco didn't even know if Harry liked boys or not. Hell, Draco didn't even know if he himself was gay or bi. He thought some girls were pretty (including Daphne, that traitorous flirt), but he wasn't sure if he wanted to snog them or anything. 

Even if Harry did like boys, Draco still couldn't say anything to Harry. What if he didn't like Draco back? It could ruin their friendship, and then Hermione would be stuck in the middle – if she didn't end up choosing a side... what if she chose Harry over Draco? He didn't think he could bear that.

Draco forced himself to stop thinking about it. Not thinking about it meant not acting on it, which meant he didn't have to worry about potentially driving away both of his best friends. The best thing he could do right now was to enjoy shopping in Diagon Alley with Harry. 

By the time Draco went to bed that night, his new problem had to take a back seat to an old problem. Both Hermione and Lucius had shown up in Flourish and Blotts at the same time, though Draco didn't think Lucius had even noticed Hermione. Harry and Hermione had seemed utterly bewildered by the verbal sparring between Lucius and Mr Weasley, but that was nothing compared to when the two men began brawling. 

Being a Gryffindor, Hermione had immediately headed _towards_ the fight, stopping only when Draco frantically gestured for her to go away. She did so at once, but not before shooting him a hurt look. Hagrid had appeared out of nowhere to break up the fight, and Lucius had quickly Disapparated Draco and Harry back to Malfoy Manor. The two boys had been so discombobulated after the day's events that they had spent most of the rest of the day in their own rooms. Draco had spent his time writing to Hermione to apologise. He would have, anyway – it was only good manners – but given that he'd been worrying over her ditching him for Harry... Draco's apology may have been a little more elaborate than usual.

Draco sighed and rolled over, staring out the window at the pale moonlight. He desperately wanted someone to talk to about everything, but he couldn't think of anyone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He knew exactly who he wanted to talk to, but Narcissa was still furious with Lucius over brawling in public. Draco didn't think he ought to add to her sorrows.

Not for the first time, Draco wondered if this fight – the biggest his parents had had in a long time – would be enough for them to finally get divorced, or at least separated. They already led mostly separate lives: each had their own suite of rooms, including separate bedrooms, and they didn't really have any friends in common. The only thing they really had in common was Draco.

He wasn't sure how he felt about his parents divorcing. Most of his friends' parents were still together. The only one with divorced parents was Greg. He'd stayed in England with his father, while his mother had returned to Northern Ireland. Draco shuddered at the thought. No, if his parents got divorced, he'd live with his mother, no contest. 

Unless Lucius contested it...

The thought made him feel sick. Draco didn't think he could handle his parents divorcing on top of a potential rift between his friends. 

With another miserable sigh, Draco rolled over again. Why couldn't something go his way for once?


End file.
